


Peace of Mind

by edy



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blind Character, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Disabled Character, Established Relationship, M/M, Recovery, TOPFL Christmas Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 18:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13129479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edy/pseuds/edy
Summary: Josh wakes to Tyler falling in the kitchen again.





	Peace of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> translation into русский available: [Душевное Спокойствие](https://ficbook.net/readfic/6330416) by [RunTheConverse](https://ficbook.net/authors/288286)
> 
> -
> 
> happy holidays!

Josh wakes to Tyler falling in the kitchen again. Along with the telltale two thuds of Tyler's knees hitting the hardwood, the characteristic shattering of glass follows. It doesn't land in one piece. The glass hits a counter, maybe a table, before it collides with the floor. "Shit," Tyler says, "shit, shit,  _shit_ —"

The glass scrapes across the floor, Tyler no doubt trying to clean everything up by himself. This is when Josh emerges from the room. This is when Josh decides to intervene. Any other night, if Tyler were to fall, Josh would leave him knowing Tyler would be embarrassed by the action, but the glass, the  _glass_ —Josh flips on the kitchen light to reveal Tyler indeed sliding the shards of glass into his palms. It's more hurried than Josh imagined in his head, like Tyler wants to hurry forward like nothing happened. Josh wants nothing more than to do the same, but he sees the blood on Tyler's hands. He frowns, and Tyler trembles. "Josh," he says, slowly. "I think I need a bandage."

"Stay where you are. I'll get the first-aid kit."

Tyler does as told, even ceasing scooping the glass into his hands. He's crouched over the glass he dropped, a mixture of blood and water on his fingers. A box of hot chocolate mix rests on the kitchen table, open and waiting. Tyler turns his head to the side to scratch his nose on his shoulder.

Needing to stand on tiptoe on his good foot, Josh reaches for the kit in the cabinet above the microwave. "Uh." Returning to his feet, Josh gives the kit a shake. His thumb flips the clasps. "Feels like we're running low on some supplies." Josh doesn't mean to say it to make Tyler worry, and Tyler knows not to worry. Bandages aren't everything. Josh could just as easily spread the antibacterial cream on the wounds and let Tyler fall asleep with his hands wrapped in towels.

Raising his arms, Tyler presents his hands to Josh, palms up. He has his eyes turned onto Josh, but his eyes don't focus. They don't focus anymore. One of his pupils is larger than the other. "I counted wrong, I think," Tyler says, curling his fingers when Josh begins to wipe away the blood from the minor abrasions. "Ran into the counter. Felt like I was shot."

"Do you want me to check your hip, too?" asks Josh, pulling out the Neosporin and sealing the cuts with a thin line of the white cream.

"If it'll give you some peace of mind, then sure."

Josh makes note to check Tyler's hip when they're safe in the bedroom. "Had a craving for hot chocolate?" Josh nods his head toward the table. Tyler copies the gesture and looks to the box on the table. He blinks, silently taking the sight in with as much introspection as if his eyes were cooperating. "Or was it for me?" Josh adds, with a smile.

Contagious, Tyler smiles once he hears the hope in Josh's tone. "Why would I do anything for you?"

This answer is simple. "Because I would do anything for you."

Three bandages and a kiss to each of them later, Tyler reluctantly agrees to go back to bed—but not before quipping, "You came in here pretty fast."

Josh disposes of the glass, flicking the shards from his fingertips into the trash can. He chooses not to indulge Tyler with an answer, and yet, his silence is an answer in itself. "It's okay," Tyler whispers, and allows his palm to smack against the hallway wall. It's a light smack, a tap if anything. "It's okay, Josh." He moves down the hallway, feet carefully picking up and being set down in an orderly manner, left foot, right foot, one, two, three.

Procuring two mugs from a cabinet—two sure to not break if they took a sudden tumble—Josh makes the hot chocolate Tyler's heart was set on, no matter how much he tries to claim the opposite. Josh knows Tyler often doesn't sleep through the night as much as he once did. Midnight, one o'clock, even the odd three in the morning, Josh would wake to an empty bed. More times than not, when he wakes suddenly like this, the sheets would still be warm. Josh would stay there for a few moments, eyes on the pillow and where Tyler's head used to be, and listen.

Tyler would be in the kitchen, out on the front porch—he'd be anywhere he could sit by himself and act as though nothing had changed over the past year. Tyler likes to think nothing changed. He goes around their house and cooks like he did before. He goes around their house and feels along the walls—something he didn't do before, but this is something Tyler would never admit. He has to count his steps. He has to memorize where everything in the house is now because, before the accident, Tyler didn't give a second thought as to their kitchen table or the toilet. But now he counts, and he miscounts and pisses on his feet and runs his hips into furniture.

Tonight, Tyler managed to stay asleep until one o'clock. He woke and couldn't return to the familiar fog of dreamland, and so he left. He counted his steps and grabbed the hot chocolate mix and filled a glass with water and promptly lost everything he thought he mastered. In the bedroom, Tyler doesn't seem bothered. He's sat up, leaned against the headboard with his eyes set on the TV in front of him, perfectly placed on their dresser.

"Hey," Josh says, two mugs in his hands. One he holds by the handle and the other he holds encased between his thumb at the brim and his fingers at the bottom. This one has a straw sticking from the beverage, kept in place by a pile of marshmallows, just how Tyler likes it.

"Hi." Tyler turns his head, eyes downcast. He holds out his hands, and then stops.

"One more," Josh suggests, and Tyler moves forward another inch. His bandaged fingers slide into the handle, curling, while the other hand delicately skims along the brim. He finds the straw easily and thanks Josh with a smile as he slowly brings it to his lips.

Josh sits a little closer to Tyler, just enough for their arms to touch, and drinks his own hot chocolate. He watches TV, an infomercial that wouldn't even make sense to a person who was not visually impaired.

But Josh doesn't really watch TV. He watches Tyler and the way Tyler has to hold the tip of the straw to make sure it makes it to his mouth every time he wants a sip, the way Tyler lets go of that straw to lightly bop each marshmallow to decide which goes into his mouth first, and the way the glow from the television accents the faint scars along Tyler's brows, forehead, and the bridge of his nose.

"Are you worried about tomorrow?" Josh places his mug on the end table, the final drops of hot chocolate sticking to his upper lip. He licks all he can, but ultimately touches Tyler's chin, down to Tyler's neck, and Tyler automatically closes his eyes, turns, and parts his lips. Josh kisses him, and he kisses Josh.

"Why would I be worried?" Tyler's inquiry is nonsensical. Tyler wants to act like nothing has happened, even as he's failing to kiss Josh's mouth again.

Josh eases the mug from Tyler's grasp, marshmallows gone and thus empty and no longer delicious. He leans over Tyler, Tyler feeling Josh's back against his chest, and rubs Josh's back, Josh's shoulders. " _I'm_  worried," Josh tells him, and means it. "I'm scared, too, and I won't tell you there's nothing to be worried about or scared of because I know that's going to do nothing for either of us." Josh runs his hand down Tyler's side and pulls up Tyler's shirt. Tyler inhales. Josh places a kiss on Tyler's hip, the skin warm from where Tyler bumped into the counter.

"Peace of mind," Tyler mumbles, tangling his fingers into the hair at the nape of Josh's neck. "I, I… I know it's stupid—"

"It's not," Josh says. "Tyler, God, it's the furthest thing from stupid."

Tyler slides down the bed, lying flat on his back, and tugs Josh on top of him, his legs and arms wrapping around Josh's waist and neck, trapping Josh in place—not that Josh minds this scenario in the slightest. Tyler is warm, and Josh likes being warm.

"I know it's not stupid," Tyler breathes into Josh's ear, the goosebumps rising on Josh's skin flowing to Tyler's. Tyler squeezes. He doesn't want to let go. "I know it's not stupid, but I think other people think it's stupid."

They lie there, listening to last-minute gift ideas and free shipping.

Josh says, "Peace of mind." He says, "Our families are coming to our house this year to give us peace of mind."

"Our brothers—"

"They're okay." Josh squeezes now. "They're okay, Tyler." Raising onto his forearms and pressing his palm to Tyler's forehead, Josh looks at Tyler's face, right into his eyes, and he smiles and says, "No one thinks our fears are stupid. They understand, and if they don't understand fully, at least they understand a little bit."

Tyler's hands are restless between Josh's shoulder blades. His fingers twitch. His nails scratch and scratch. It feels good. Josh runs his palm against Tyler's head, the resistance futile due to Tyler's lack of hair. He shaved it this past week. He took pride in that. He never missed a spot.

Josh shifts his weight to an elbow, chewing on the inside of his cheek in search of the remote. Tangled in the blankets, once Josh finds it, he presses down the power button and places it next to Tyler's mug. Tyler doesn't move, hasn't moved, save for his hands on Josh's shoulders now. His head is on his pillow, his eyes following Josh. Josh doesn't have to be omniscient to know the stories spinning in that shorn scalp. Tyler's moved onto his brother and the call they shared the past afternoon. He wished them a Merry Christmas, and then asked if Tyler planned on making homemade dumplings, just like their grandmother used to cook for the holidays. Tyler told him, "Of course I will. I always do, Zack.  _Come on_."

Ham, dumplings, gingerbread men, and more, Tyler liked to cook; the accident couldn't take that away from him. It could swipe his vision and confidence, but it couldn't take his knack for cuisine.

But that's not what consumes Tyler's mind. It's Zack confessing he might need to stake claim over the couch for the duration of the visit. "It's really getting… worse, like, I'm pretty sure it's the cold weather, but I can barely manage to stand or hold my head up for any longer than twenty minutes. My braces help. They're uncomfortable, though, and it's  _Christmas_. Mom's going to take  _pictures_. I don't want her to take pictures of me with my neck and back brace."

"Zack," Tyler said, patient, "did you forget what my face looks like?"

Zack was quiet. Zack said, "Merry Christmas."

Josh passes his thumb over Tyler's eyebrow, noting the faint white scar through the middle of it. The other brow has two matching scars. Josh leans in to kiss each of them. Tyler takes in a shaky breath again.

"Everything's going to be okay," Josh wills into the center of Tyler's forehead.

Tyler closes his eyes. "Josh—"

"I know. I remember."

As Tyler crawls under the covers once more, Josh sits on the edge of his side of the bed. He works his sweatpants up and over his right leg, stopping at his knee, and begins the task of removing his prosthetic. When they were all in the hospital, Tyler still knocked unconscious after the airbag failed to deploy and Zack unable to move without any pain, Josh and his brother Jordan were in the emergency room hyperventilating and clutching at each other as the doctor attempted to console them with kind words, medical words, words they didn't want to fucking hear.

Josh and Jordan occupied the same room while they were in recovery. Eventually they would be able to crack jokes about how they each had to have a leg amputated. They still talked of running in marathons together as a single unit. Their mother didn't appreciate this.

The prosthetic drops on the carpet, akin to Tyler falling to his knees. They're both used to sounds such as this.

Rolling the white elastic sleeve onto his knee, Josh looks over his shoulder to check on Tyler. Tyler's awake, eyes on him, lips parted. Josh watches Tyler's chest rise and fall. This is peace of mind.

"Do you want a kiss?" Josh pulls the blankets up to his chin, more so on Tyler's side. He deserves the softest blanket on their bed.

Tyler wiggles over to Josh.

Their hands find each other.

"I want several kisses," Tyler answers.

A reminder that needs to be a constant now, Josh uses his free hand to cup the side of Tyler's neck, leans in, and kisses Tyler. Careful peck after careful peck, Tyler shivers beneath Josh's mouth and opens up, invites Josh inside, and Josh, he tilts his head to the side and bumps their noses together. It's an accident. He whispers, "Sorry. I'm sorry."

The mattress dips from Tyler sliding closer to Josh, allowing his head to rest on the pillow next to Josh's. It's never too close. They always want to be closer.

Tyler shuts his eyes. He opens his eyes. Josh looks into those brown eyes and realizes the dilated right pupil doesn't bring tears to his own eyes anymore. Staring at Tyler never failed to bring Josh sorrow, and while the pain is still there, it isn't as prevalent. Recovery is magical. A lot can happen in a year.

"Did you get me something special for Christmas?" Tyler closes his eyes again, forehead tipping to touch Josh's cheekbone.

Josh wraps his arms around Tyler. "I hope you think so."

A laugh actually leaves Tyler's lips, a delightful sound. "Oh,  _God_ , Josh, what did you get me?  _What did you get me?_ "

And Josh, he laughs with Tyler and kisses a scar on the bridge of Tyler's nose. "Peace of mind."

"I hate you," Tyler hisses. "I completely and entirely loathe you."

Josh hugs Tyler, and Tyler hugs Josh.

"Go to sleep," Josh says. Tyler does without any trouble.

*

It's been a year since the car accident that robbed Tyler of his sight, Josh and Jordan of their right and left leg respectively, and Zack of his ease of mobility. Josh doesn't remember what had happened to cause their car to flip as it did; he blames that on trauma altering his memory. Dwelling on the thought allows him to reach the conclusion, and the conclusion is simple: His brain is protecting him. To Tyler, Zack, and Jordan, their brains are also kind.

Josh knows they were driving to the mall. He doesn't know who suggested scouting out stores the day before Christmas. He knows they all considered it to be a fun idea, an adventure, and so Tyler volunteered to drive them.

Despite Josh being Tyler's boyfriend, Josh let Zack have shotgun. "I can ride in the front any time I want," Josh told Zack's frown. "Go ahead."

They were on the road. Tyler was driving. Jordan sat behind Tyler. Josh sat behind Zack. "Jingle Bell Rock" vibrated their bones. They sang. They laughed. They were happy.

And Josh remembers watching Tyler jerk forward, his forehead connecting with the steering wheel once, and then twice more, and Josh remembers Zack asking, "Hey, are you okay?" before jerking forward, too.

Jordan reached for Josh's hand. Josh heard screaming.

He remembers the hospital all too well. He remembers pain and Jordan never letting go of his hand and yelling at the nurses to stop touching him. Josh remembers what his leg looked like, crushed to hell and back, with Jordan's leg matching his to a T. Josh was relieved he didn't injure the leg with Tyler's name inked into the space above his knee. Jordan was relieved for Josh.

The amputation and subsequent prosthetic took a while for them to accept. Jordan liked the wheelchairs. Josh liked Jordan being cheerful.

Zack couldn't raise his head without experiencing vertigo. He couldn't move at all. A lift team had to come in every two hours to make sure he didn't attract bedsores. That hurt the most. Zack didn't want visitors. He cried himself to sleep often.

And Tyler had a concussion. Josh said, "Yeah, obviously," once he was allowed to see Tyler. Tyler glared at him after revealing the diagnosis. Josh held his laughter inside and hugged his stomach. "I mean, you did do some heavy headbanging there."

Tyler wouldn't look at Josh.

Tyler also couldn't raise his head without experiencing vertigo. He wore a neck brace identical to Zack's. Tyler didn't mind wearing it. The scratches, though, and the bruising and broken skin from the glass shards, that's what bothered Tyler. "I'm ugly," he whispered to Josh every night, when it was just the two of them and Tyler's heartbeat.

"You look like you picked at your face one too many times. That's it. Tyler— _Tyler_ , you're the furthest thing from ugly." Josh heaved himself onto Tyler's bed and kissed him. Tyler was crying. "Take it back," Josh pleaded, his fingers on Tyler's face and neck. "Take that back, Tyler."

Tyler closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry… I can't."

No child was without their parents during the duration of their stays. When compared, Josh couldn't tell who was more distraught, and if this were even a competition for tragedy. Tyler's mother always acted funny around Josh and his family, especially when it came to this. It wasn't that she thought Josh's own family wasn't deserving of her sympathy. It was that she considered her pain, and only her pain, worth more sympathy than the actual physical torture both her sons endured and would continue to endure until the pain ceased. On Facebook, the pity party never stopped.  _Pray for me_ , she posted.  _My boys are—_

Josh couldn't stop rolling his eyes.

Rather than only providing comfort in the form of prayers and thoughts, Josh's mother provided her comfort in the form of socks and more socks. She was scared her sons were going to lose their other legs, as if amputation were spread like disease. Jordan told her she was being silly. Josh savored every sock.

Josh's mother even brought Zack and Tyler food from her own kitchen. She fed them. She nurtured them. They began to smile again.

Tyler would do anything but admit this in front of his mother, but in the quiet of Josh's company, he confessed; if it had not been for Josh's mom, he wouldn't find joy in cooking anymore.

It was music to Josh's ears.

Josh and Jordan made plans to be pirates for next Halloween. Zack learned to smother any embarrassment he felt when wearing his braces. Tyler suffered from headaches.

And soon, they were discharged.

Josh sat with Tyler on Tyler's bed as they waited. Swinging legs and playing with fingers, they talked of finally being allowed to sleep in their own bed without turmoil. Josh had a new leg, and Tyler felt as if they would need to purchase a black-out curtain to curb his migraines, but they would get by. Josh believed in them. They were stronger now. They faced death and emerged victorious.

Tyler suddenly squeezed Josh's hand. Josh said, "Ow." Tyler didn't let go. Josh said it louder.

"Josh." Tyler's tone frightened Josh. The fear in Tyler's voice slithered into Josh's stomach to nest and breed. Tyler smacked Josh's thigh with his free hand, still tightly holding onto Josh with the other, and he raised his head and stared at Josh, but he wasn't staring at Josh. There was something wrong with his eyes. One of his pupils, the right one, it was dilated, and the other, it was fuzzy. It didn't look right. Nothing looked right after that.

"Josh," Tyler cried. "I can't see."

Josh called for the doctor. Tyler couldn't stop crying, couldn't stop blinking, couldn't stop rubbing his eyes. He thought if he blinked enough, if he rubbed enough, if he  _prayed_  enough, his vision would come back.

But it didn't.

"Retinal detachment," the doctor said, and went on to apologize.

Tyler wept. Josh did, too.

*

Josh wakes to Tyler's fingernails dancing along his face. As if they were miniature vacuums, the tips of Tyler's fingers take in Josh's five o'clock shadow. Holding him in place, suction cups now, Tyler uses them as leverage as he uses the rest of his body in the search for Josh. The bandages wrapped around them are cloth, a little ragged. Josh lays his hands on top of Tyler's fingers, squeezing them gently.

Chest to chest, a leg over Josh's thighs, and his forehead burrowing into the space between Josh's eyebrows, Tyler chooses silence once again for their morning routine. Always silence and always slow, Tyler spends the first minutes after waking collecting his bearings by cataloguing the pores on Josh's face. Tyler lies there, staring, not staring, stroking,  _loving_. Tyler loves him. Tyler kisses him, and while it's not perfectly aligned, Josh winds his arms around Tyler's shoulders and kisses Tyler back.

Tyler doesn't stop touching Josh. With his lips to Josh's lips, Tyler passes his hand up and down Josh's side, catching on Josh's t-shirt, Josh's soft skin. The sigh Tyler breathes is quiet, more of a gentle exhale through his nostrils, and it warms Josh, causes him to shiver. Tyler shivers with him, and then Tyler laughs, both of his hands on Josh's face. Hips wiggling, toes curling, Tyler bends at the waist, sits on Josh's hips, and allows himself another kiss from Josh's bottom lip. "Did you dream?" Tyler asks, petting Josh's earlobes and the silver tunnels. His pinkies can fit through the holes. Josh feels Tyler move them around and smiles. "Did you?" Tyler repeats, and leans in to kiss Josh again.

Morning breath doesn't exist. Josh scratches the back of Tyler's head. "I dreamed about reindeer."

"What about reindeer?"

"We rode on them. Flew. It was our anniversary."

Tyler laughs at that. He eases himself from Josh's hips and the bed. Once his feet touch carpet, he lowers himself into crouching. He stretches his arms, fingers splayed out to skim across the smooth surface of Josh's prosthetic leg on the floor. A couple inches within his grasp, Tyler first touches the prosthetic to remind himself it's there, and then Tyler touches it to pass it over to Josh. When he turns his head to look upon Josh, it looks as if Tyler is truly looking at Josh. "We should do that for our anniversary," he says. "Fly, I mean. I know we can't fly on reindeer. Could we go skydiving?"

Maybe Tyler can see him. Josh's research into retinal detachment wasn't as extensive as it could have been, he'll confess to this. Anything past the first page of his initial Google search became lost on him. Truth be told, Josh didn't know what to look for exactly. Asking Tyler seemed insensitive. So, Josh doesn't ask, despite how much he wants to ask. He takes his leg from Tyler and says, "I don't see why we couldn't. I'll hold onto you so you won't be scared."

Tyler stays low to the ground for a moment, hands still out from where Josh's leg once laid. He does narrow his eyes, and he huffs a small laugh that's more annoyed than joyful. "I won't be scared," protests Tyler. " _You'll_  be the one clinging to me because  _you'll_  be the one scared." Palms to his knees, Tyler stands from the carpet and thrusts his hands into Josh's hair, a bit shaky, and ruffles the powder-blue curls. "I had a funny dream, too. You had lips for eyes and an eyeball where your mouth was."

"How was that funny?" Both legs ready for the day, Josh means to stand from the bed, but Tyler doesn't move. He continues to stand in front of Josh, his fingers twisted into Josh's hair. Josh sits, then, and pats Tyler's hips, rubbing them with his thumbs.

"Every time you talked, you echoed."

"And that was funny?"

"Uh, yeah, dude." Tyler kisses Josh's forehead. "I guess you had to be there. Can you take off my bandages? I need to shower."

Josh uses what little nail he has to unwrap bandaid after bandaid after bandaid from Tyler's fingers. They curl when they're free. Tyler smiles when they're free. Tyler cups Josh's cheeks and blows a raspberry in his face.

"Hey," Josh says. "Hey, can you see me?"

A slow blink, Tyler tilts his head. The expression is unreadable, even paired with the small furrow between Tyler's brows. "Can I see you?" He says this quietly. He draws his thumbs under Josh's eyes, tracing the bags underneath them. "Of course I can see you. You have a booger up your nose." Tyler blows another raspberry in Josh's face. "Can you start peeling some potatoes for me?"

Josh kisses Tyler's chest, down to his stomach. "Yeah. Wait, though, like… Can we… can we, uh,  _you know_ …?"

Tyler doesn't waste any time in sitting on Josh's lap, in pushing Josh down, in sitting on Josh's hips again. He nods his head, a smile on his face, and holds the side of Josh's neck to keep Josh in place for a kiss, for a second kiss, a third.

They roll over. They roll over again.

They do this by touch alone, Josh keeping his eyes shut, too. It's better this way. Tyler says so.

"Overwhelming," he whispers against Josh's lips, naked, with Josh beneath him, Josh's legs around his waist, Josh's hands on the backs of his thighs. Tyler can't get close enough. He presses his mouth to Josh's neck, whispering more, whispering forever. "You feel even better like this. This is good. You're good. You're the best guy in the world."

Josh kisses the side of Tyler's face, a scar, another scar, another scar, another— "Your skin's so soft."

Tyler whines. Josh squeezes Tyler's hips with his thighs. "You f-fuck me so well."

"Shut the heck up."

They roll over. They roll over again.

They share a kiss, more saliva than acceptable.

Tyler pulls a curl behind Josh's ear. "Merry Christmas. We survived the year."

Josh hugs Tyler. "We survived the year."

*

Like Tyler always does as he waits for the timer to go off, he sits at the kitchen table, feet propped up, and flicks the strings of his ukulele. "I'm not serious," Tyler would often say, strumming a tune Josh swore was the best thing he ever heard. "It's not serious… not a serious musician."

"You could be," Josh told him time and time again.

Tyler has to relearn the cords, having first been taught by sight. The strings teach him now, and he counts. Tyler counts under his breath. He taps his foot. He watches his fingers. Josh watches him. "That's beautiful," Josh says, and Tyler closes his eyes.

Josh shakes his head. He returns to spreading icing on gingerbread men, trying to make their outfits symmetrical. The cookies are fresh from the oven, with the icing melting immediately onto their bodies, messy and homey. Josh scoops a glob of icing from the counter with his fingertip and pops it into his mouth. Around his finger, he asks Tyler, "Do you want some gumdrops before I put them on the cookies?"

Ukulele melodies and a continued foot rocking, Tyler leans his head on the back of the chair. The wood creaks, a pleasant enough sound, and it brings Josh to smile. "Open your mouth," Josh says, "and I'll toss 'em in."

He expects rejection. The disappointment already settles into the pit of his stomach, but Tyler says, "I like the red ones the best," and opens his mouth.

Josh dips inside the bag of gumdrops, the spit on his index finger attracting sugar. He sucks this off and uses his other hand, his left hand, to throw a red gumdrop at Tyler. Josh misses. Tyler laughs at the sound it makes when it smacks onto the kitchen table. "Almost," he says, and roams his hand around the table to feel for the piece of candy. It goes into his mouth immediately, Tyler eating it with a shit-eating grin.

"Ham smells good," Josh comments, and tosses another gumdrop at Tyler, this time with his right hand.

Tyler tilts his head to the side and chomps on the gumdrop sailing into his mouth. "Thank you. For the ham. I worked hard." He shrugs his shoulder. "Or, well, the pig did. Dead now."

"Thanks for that, Tyler. Merry Christmas." Josh places the gumdrops on the gingerbread men, a single one in the center of their chests. They didn't feel the need to get small ones at the grocery store. Tyler clutched at the handlebars on the cart, head following Josh at every step he took. He bobbed his head and trusted Josh to pick out everything they needed for Christmas dinner. Josh thought they weren't buying enough for two families, but Josh stands in the kitchen now and thinks they have plenty.

He pushes the cookies to the side, taps off the timer on the microwave, and tugs on oven mitts.

"The ham," Tyler says, flicking the C string twice and smacking his palm against the body of his ukulele. "Are you—?"

"Yes."

Tyler carefully sets his ukulele on the table, giving it a pat before he uses it for leverage in standing. Josh has his back to Tyler, full attention on pulling the ham from the oven and placing it on an empty spot on the counter. Now half attention now, Josh cocks his head, listening to Tyler's fingers dragging along the cabinets and sides of countertops until they wind around the fabric of Josh's shirt. Tyler stops, mindful, and Josh removes the oven mitts and drops them next to the ham. "Smells good," Josh says.

Tyler runs his hand up Josh's back. "Here."

Josh spins, slow, lifting one foot after the other. Tyler watches, hands in front of him, waiting to touch Josh until he's stationary again. They have grown to appreciate the silence in waiting.

"Okay," says Josh.

Hands on Tyler's hips at first, Josh then slides his hands to meet at the small of Tyler's back. Tyler loops his arms around Josh's shoulders, pulling himself in, slightly lifting himself up, foreheads together, Tyler's feet on top of Josh's. "Shit." Tyler opens his eyes, blush along his cheeks.

"Stepped on my bad foot." Josh rubs their noses together. "It's okay."

Tyler's fingers are on the nape of his neck, scratching, stroking. "I keep thinking about where we were last year, and I fucking hate myself."

"A lot has happened since then. Think about  _that_  and not  _why_  we had to endure it. Think about the recovery. Don't think about the hospital."

"Don't think about the hospital," Tyler repeats. He squeezes his eyes shut. "Don't think about the hospital. Don't think about the hospital."

Josh feels sick. "Tyler—"

"My parents will be here soon." Tyler's already removing himself from Josh. There wasn't a knock on the door, but Josh isn't one to stop Tyler from sitting on the front porch if he so desired. Appropriate seating is there for a reason. If Tyler forgot to wrap up, then Josh would intervene, but Tyler's stepping into a pair of slippers and pulling on an old sweatshirt from the back of the couch. Tyler does this frequently. He knows where things are by habit alone.

Josh returns to the ham.

Tyler leaves the front door open to let some light and warmth inside. The screen door is closed. It's fifty-three degrees. Rain is in the forecast for tonight.

Josh hears Tyler sneeze. Josh hears Tyler, with a muffled voice, going, "Hey, Mom, sorry, I need to wipe my—"

But Tyler's mom is persistent. Josh doesn't need to be out on the front porch to know she's pulling Tyler into a hug and letting her eldest child get snot on her ugly Christmas sweater. She did that on Tyler's birthday, where the runny nose was from him crying rather than stepping outside.

Tyler really tried not to cry. Josh remembered seeing Tyler dig his teeth into his lip and the inside of his cheek. He blinked too much. He said, "I'm fine. I'm fine." He cradled the blanket his mother got him, the softest one she could find, and rocked back and forth. It was slow. He was focusing more on running his fingers along the woven material. He said, "I'm fine," and his mom still pulled him into a hug that enabled him to stain her shirt sleeve with snot and tears.

From the kitchen, Josh now hears Tyler shuffling back into the house, his parents and siblings coming in after like clockwork. Tyler's mom is the one talking, as she always is. "Tyler," she says now, "you look well." Her tone indicates she doesn't think he looks well at all, and Josh is about to swoop in there to defend his lover's honor when Zack does it for him.

"She's not lying, Tyler. You look really good. Better than me. I haven't slept  _in days_. Mind if I cop the couch?"

Tyler's shuffling continues into the kitchen. Hands engulfed in the sweatshirt, his head hanging low, Tyler approaches Josh and says, harsh, under his breath, "You better stick a gingerbread man in my mouth right this instant, Josh, before I scream."

Josh does as asked.

Content and nodding his head, Tyler remarks, "This is actually pretty good," and saves the gumdrop middle for last.

"Thanks, Tyler," Josh says.

"My family's here. When are yours coming?"

Josh smiles. "Soon."

Tyler smiles, too. "Zack said I looked good."

Josh pinches Tyler's cheek. "Must be all that peace of mind we have this year."

Scrunching his nose, Tyler remarks, "Must be." With his head hanging low again and his toes curling in his slippers, the scars on his face disappear. He pauses, then, and gets in close to Josh's face. "You can stay in here with me, if you don't want to be with my family," Tyler whispers. "Pretend to help me cook. What else do we need?"

Josh refrains from calling Tyler cute for saying that. Josh doesn't need to  _pretend_  to help Tyler, when Tyler is liable to slice his finger on a lone knife or run into a counter and drop a glass. Instead Tyler has this small victory, and Josh turns his attention to the food on the table, on the counters, everywhere. Tyler's hand rests on his back. "I, uh, never got around to peeling those potatoes for you."

"I love you," Tyler continues to whisper, and leans his head against Josh's shoulder, "a whole lot. We have some of those refrigerated mashed potatoes, right? My mom won't be able to tell."

*

Josh's family arrives shortly after Tyler's diabolical plan to trick his mother into eating anything other than homemade mashed potatoes. Josh lets Tyler know he'll be right back with a kiss to the top of his fuzzy head and a careful swiping of the slippers off his feet, and meets them in the front yard. Pleasantries in the form of tight hugs, Josh doesn't do a successful job at trying not to appear disappointed to see Jordan missing from the Dun clan.

His mom draws him back to cheer. She pats his cheek and tells Josh, "Jordan's arriving later because he's watching your present."

" _Tyler's_  present," Josh corrects, frowning.

"Whatever you say, sweetie. How is Tyler?" She lets Josh take her arm to aid her up the front porch steps, them both knowing Josh needs her assistance more than she needs his.

Josh doesn't have a chance to say anything about Tyler's health when Tyler is at the door, already bounding out the house to throw his arms around Josh's mom's shoulders. "Mama Dun!" he exclaims. Tiptoe and a big smile and all, Tyler completes the greeting with a kiss to her cheek and taking over Josh's role in leading her inside the house. Like with Josh, Tyler's role as protector is minimal. Josh's mom has to lightly tug and steer Tyler away from doorways and people.

"Did you cook everything, Tyler?" she asks, smiling politely at Tyler's parents in passing. Tyler's dad returns the gesture with a wave and nod, reminiscent of Tyler, while Tyler's mother, on the other hand, chooses to act as if she hadn't noticed the Duns at all. "Any desserts?"

Tyler gasps, a tad offended. " _So many_. I made brownies and a yule log and truffles—and Josh made gingerbread men—"

A yank on Josh's shirt, Ashley pulls him down to press her lips to his ear. "Jordan told me to tell you your present is… a handful."

" _Tyler's_  present," Josh says, automatically, and then adds, "I hope Tyler isn't, like, mad."

"Why would he be mad?" Abby cuts in.

Josh says, "Uh."

His sisters laugh and echo, "He'll be fine." Josh thinks Tyler will be, too, if the rest of the day, and dinner, continues smoothly. Tyler seems to be in good spirits. He talks animatedly to Josh's mom, and then Josh's sisters once they enter the kitchen. Josh lingers behind, letting Tyler's parents and siblings in front of him, save for Zack. Zack lingers, as well, first sitting on the couch, and now leaning against whichever wall is closest. He doesn't wear his braces, and Josh can tell from the lack of pigment in his lips that Zack isn't up to par with the rest of them. Josh assumes Jordan is okay enough. He wouldn't volunteer to stay by himself if that were not the case.

"Hey." Josh glances into the kitchen, spots Tyler holding his ukulele to his chest—no doubt wanting to hide it to prevent his mother from pressuring him to play something—and turns back to Zack. "I'll get you a plate. Sit down. I'll eat in here with you."

Zack doesn't try to fight it. He lifts his hand, meant to be a sort of wave, but it's weak, and Zack sits on the couch.

Even in his own house, Josh feels like a stranger when it comes to company. Josh doesn't mind crowds, but he would be lying if he said it doesn't drain him. It bothers Tyler, too, who immediately nudges past everybody upon hearing Josh coming into the kitchen. Distinct, despite the slippers still on his feet, Tyler finds Josh easily, reaches for his arm, and grips it. With white knuckles and his neck bent low to the ground once more, Tyler's words aren't necessary. Josh takes him from the kitchen and into their bedroom, where Tyler can carefully place his ukulele onto their bed.

It's quiet in here.

"How are you feeling?"

Tyler puts on a smile. "Better."

Josh kisses Tyler's chin. "Zack doesn't feel well. I'm going to sit in the living room with him, so he won't be alone."

"Me, too," Tyler decides. "Who needs a table when you don't have your eyes?"

Snorting so hard it hurts his throat, Josh guides Tyler from their room.

"Where's Jordan?" Tyler wiggles his fingers into Josh's side.

"He's coming in later. Santa needed some help."

Tyler digs his fingers deeper into Josh's side. "Shut  _up_."

"Oh, Tyler," his mom hums, "put on some music, will you?"

Grumbling to himself, Tyler detaches himself from Josh to run his fingers along the walls of their home to find the iHome on a living room shelf. Josh keeps a close eye on him as he fixes Zack a plate of food. Tyler has done this more times than usual. Their days are filled with more music and dancing than they ever had before.

Zack's helping Tyler navigate the playlist on Josh's phone when Josh enters the room with the food. If Tyler were to place the phone in the speaker as he tended to do, any song would play. They need Christmas music. They need good music.

"Here," Zack says, and passes Tyler his phone to take the food. "Tyler, dude, this food—you did it all by yourself?"

Tyler flashes a thumbs up and smashes Josh's phone into the iHome.

"He decorated the tree all by himself, too," Josh says.

"Yeah, you can tell a blind man did that."

Josh bites his lip.

Tyler is all bright eyes. He shushes Zack. "You better hope Mom didn't hear you say that. You know she doesn't like to acknowledge we're disabled unless it's to benefit her."

"You better hope Mom didn't hear you say  _that_."

"You're eating in here by yourself," Tyler decides, triumphant, hands on his hips and tapping his foot to Mariah Carey.

Zack stuffs mashed potatoes in his mouth. "I  _dare_  you to let me sit in here by myself."

"It's Christmas," Tyler says. "Josh and I will be here with you. We have to stick together."

Josh's siblings join them in this, as does Josh's mom. Tyler insists they don't need to sacrifice suitable furniture arrangements for them. "We're fine by ourselves," he says, fork in hand, ham in his mouth, but they don't leave. They sit in chairs, on the floor, and they do nothing but remind the three on the couch how loved they are. Tyler almost cries until he remembers he needs to be strong. Josh thinks the notion is ridiculous, and how strong people are allowed to cry. He isn't allowed to voice this. Tyler stabs through his styrofoam plate with his fork and pokes his thigh with the prongs. "I'm okay," Tyler states. "Just… lost my grip."

Josh wonders if Tyler's mom thinks he needs to feed Tyler. This is ridiculous, too.

No one sits down to eat the desserts Tyler meticulously crafted with Josh as his cheerleader and taste-tester. They stand around the kitchen to eat, and they go outside onto the front porch to eat. They talk and eat and talk some more.

Zack gets the confidence to sit outside with them. He doesn't anticipate being out long.

Tyler and Josh stay on the couch, sharing a gingerbread man. One bite after the other, Josh teases Tyler by holding the cookie a couple inches to the right, a couple inches to the left, or a couple inches above Tyler's head. All good-natured fun, Tyler laughs at feeling empty air around his fingers, and laughs even more when Josh produces airplane noises and bumps the head of the gingerbread man against his lips. "Thanks," Tyler says, taking the cookie and eating the rest of it. "Wait." He talks with his mouth full. "Did the sex this morning count as my Christmas present to you? Because I didn't get you anything else."

Josh brushes the crumbs from Tyler's mouth. "But,  _Tyler_ , I got you a  _super awesome_  present."

A narrowed gaze, Tyler sends his fist into Josh's arm. He means to do that. It's more of a graze. Tyler exhales loudly and shakes his head. "Can't… believe you're such a, a, a… great person." He raises his fist again, punching Josh in the shoulder. He hits his mark. He does it again, softer now, and unfolding into a palm-press against Josh's chest.

"I'm not that great." Josh takes Tyler's wrist, lifting Tyler's hand from his chest to lace their fingers together. "I don't think you're going to like my present."

Tyler gasps. "But it's  _super awesome_." It's supposed to make Josh laugh, but he only manages a small smile, a smile Tyler can't see. Slowly, doing his best to not mess this up drastically, Tyler reaches forward with his free hand. Fingertips shaking, lips parted, and eyes desperately searching for some kind of sign, Tyler sets his hand on Josh's cheek. Tyler moves his thumb. He curls his fingers. "Why won't I like your present? As long as it's better than my parents' likely gift of… of… another soft blanket or candles or  _something_  my other senses will appreciate more, I'm going to love it."

"Maybe." Josh tilts his head.

Tyler copies the movement. He says, "Have I ever told you I can almost see the lights on the Christmas tree?"

Josh says, "You can?" When he smiles this time, Tyler pets the corner of his mouth and smiles in response.

"It's fuzzy," Tyler says, "like a fog is over my eyes. I—Josh, where are you going?" Tyler turns his head, hands still out, fingers now curling around empty air again.

Josh leaves Tyler on the couch to pluck a set of oversized bulb ornaments off the tree. Heavy and meant to be worn as tacky earrings, Josh places them in the holes of the plugs in his earlobes. As he returns to sitting, he fumbles with the buttons on the backs of their clasps, Tyler watching him, Tyler smiling, Tyler saying, "What are you doing, Josh?" He lowers his hands to rest in his lap. When the bulbs begin to blink, Tyler's hands shoot up to cover his mouth. "Oh, my God." They move to Josh, touching his shoulders, his neck, his face. "I, I, I—oh, I hope I didn't also develop epilepsy."

" _Tyler_."

Tyler puts both of his thumbs on Josh's bottom lip and kisses Josh's top one. Josh can't miss the way Tyler's chin quivers or his cheeks get damp. "It's so  _pretty_."

The front door opening can't bring Tyler to part from Josh. Zack even awkwardly bringing his knuckles into the doorframe can't bring Tyler to pull away. It's Zack going, "Move, move, move," that makes Tyler stand to give Zack the cushion he was perching on.

Zack unceremoniously claims the couch for his own, offering Josh a silent apology in the form of a disappointed frown. Josh gives him it right back and scoots over to give Zack's feet more space.

"You look pretty, Josh," Zack says, then, Josh smiling at the same word choice as Tyler.

Tyler falls to the floor to sit in front of Josh. "He always looks pretty, Zack."

" _Extra_  pretty," Zack corrects himself. "Oh, I think Jordan was pulling up when I came inside."

Josh eases the bulbs from his ears, thumbs toying with the power buttons, as he gets up from the couch. He hands them to Tyler and helps Tyler to his feet to take a seat on the sofa. "I'm going to help Jordan."

Tyler gives the bulbs to Zack, who hangs them from the tops of his ears. He flips them on. "Okay, dear. Zack, save me the trouble. What did Mom get me?"

"Candles."

Tyler snaps. "I knew it."

Josh runs into Jordan on the porch. His mom behind him, she wastes little time in telling Josh to go back inside. "It's Christmas. This is your house—"

Jordan has a bag over his shoulder, packed, and in his arms, he holds a squirming bundle wrapped up and covered by a thick blanket. Small yellow hairs stick to the dark fabric. Josh can't go back inside.

"Do we get to keep the blanket, too?" Josh asks, and takes the bundle from Jordan. The weight is comfortable in Josh's arms, cheesy almost, too, to think this was meant to be.

"Oh, yeah, he won't let anyone else have it," Jordan replies, and gives the blanket a pat. "It's nice to see you, Josh."

"I'm glad you could make it, Jordan."

Josh goes inside now, Jordan following, Jordan letting the bag on his shoulder drop next to a chair. Josh hears crinkling. He hears love. Tyler hears it, too, maybe not exactly, but he hears the presence of toys and supplies not meant for a human. "What was that?" He squints, as if that would help him.

Jordan sits in the chair, Josh starts toward the couch, and the rest of their family gather. Josh doesn't see them. Josh doesn't hear them. He looks to Tyler. He listens to Tyler.

"Hey," Josh starts, taking the cushion next to Tyler after Zack pulls his legs to his chest. "I lied when I said I got you a super awesome present. Jordan was the one to get you a super awesome present."

Tyler laughs. "Oh, yeah? What did Jordan get me?"

"He, uh, he actually got him for me, and I'm extending him to you." Before Tyler can say anything else, Josh unwraps the blanket on his lap, letting the head of a golden retriever pup emerge. The puppy is all smiles with no hesitation as he glances about the room, taking in the sights. Josh scratches behind his ears, the puppy's eyes closing in sudden bliss.

"'Him'?" Tyler frowns. "Josh, what did you—?"

"His name's Jim." At his name, Jim lets out a tiny bark, a  _boof._

Tyler's eyes widen.

Josh presses his arm to Tyler's arm, this thigh to Tyler's thigh. "Like I said, he's really for me. He's an emotional support animal and, like, Tyler, I know you're wary of dogs, but—"

Jim takes over, escaping from the loose confinements of the blanket. A bobbing head and sniffing Tyler's leg, Jim pushes his upper body toward Tyler. Crawling, scooting, he stretches his legs until he stands proudly on Tyler's thigh.

This earns him a chorus of cooing.

Biting his lip, Josh says, "Tyler—"

"Can I hug him?"

Jim bumps his head into Tyler's chest, answering Tyler's question for Josh. And Tyler's response is quick. He slings his arms around Jim's shoulders, lifting the pup from Josh's lap and burying his nose into the fur on Jim's neck. Jim's tail beats against Tyler's arms, Josh's arms, everything within its range.

Tyler begins to cry. Jim licks away the tears, and more after that. "Thank you," Tyler whispers. "Thank you, thank you. Oh, my gosh, thank you."

Josh rubs Tyler's back, but Tyler doesn't notice. He's too preoccupied in seeing how deep his fingers can go in the fur behind Jim's ears. "He's—"

"—a seeing-eye dog," Zack finishes, the bulbs still hooked on and flashing.

"Oh, ha," Tyler says.

"Zack is stupid," Josh says, Zack smiling regardless, "but he's not totally wrong. I do think Jim's going to help you around the house, and… and when you can't sleep, you'll always have someone there for you." Josh frowns a little. "I mean, he can't clean up glass."

Whipping his head toward Josh, Jim appears offended at the implication he can't be of use. Tyler senses this somehow and rubs his fingertips down Jim's spine before returning to his head. "I promise," he begins, very seriously, "as long as you give me some kind of warning beforehand, I will not step on you."

Jim's tongue flops out in a grin.

"Now,  _Josh_ ," Tyler says, his grin more mischievous than relaxed, "on the other hand, has this dead leg that he  _loves_  to just  _leave_  on the floor when we go to bed, and I'm positive the peace of mind you're going to bring us is enough to let you chew on it for a couple nights."

Josh's eyes widen. His mouth gapes. "Wait a—"

"I'm kidding." Tyler passes his thumb over Jim's brow. "Mostly. Jim won't do that. Jim's a good dog."

Jim barks.

Tyler pulls Jim into another hug, Jim returning to licking the side of Tyler's face, his tongue unable to tell the difference between the scarring and the smiling.

Josh smiles at Jordan. "Yeah, Jim's a good dog."

**Author's Note:**

> art for this fic: [[one](http://edyluewho.tumblr.com/post/168932830364)]


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